From lattes to legumes: How I found balance in work, life, and finances as a broke grad student
The unexpected benefits of a month of austerity
As May came to a close, my bank account delivered a nasty surprise: a balance teetering just above $200 – starkly contrasted by a credit card bill that could make anyone wince. This gut-punch is all too familiar for grad students like me who are trying to make ends meet on a student stipend in high-cost cities. With a string of weddings, birthdays, and that dreaded bi-annual student fee on the horizon, it was clear: drastic measures were needed to dodge the debt trap. After a bout of late-night scrolling through dire financial forecasts for millennials and zoomers, I stumbled upon the intriguing concept of a “no-spend” month and decided to try it out.
No-spend months come with their own set of rules, but the gist is pretty straightforward: ditch the non-essentials. Groceries, utilities, and must-have expenses are safe, but everything else is on the chopping block. I made an exception for my Spotify subscription – the thought of enduring workout playlists interrupted by commercials was just too much. After all, some sacrifices just aren’t worth making.
To stretch my no-spend challenge even further, I combined it with a long-overdue spring cleaning, determined to finally use up all the forgotten “staples” lurking in my freezer, cupboards, and fridge. After taking inventory, my treasure trove included a giant bag of frozen chicken strips, a giant bag of broccoli, dozens of half-finished bags of mixed veggies, five pounds of brown rice, countless bags of various legumes, several boxes of pasta (sadly, no marinara), and a myriad of premade spice mixes (hello, taco night). For breakfasts, I resolved to deplete my massive stash of oatmeal, peanut butter, and protein powder before considering anything else.
Determined to be lazy for the rest of the month, I prepped lunches and dinners in bulk. The first week, I whipped up about thirty servings of legume-based soups: vegetarian split pea, vegan dal, Portuguese caldo verde, and bean chili. Canned tomato paste became my new best friend, and frozen veggies my trusty sidekicks after discovering they can be just as nutritious as fresh ones. Each evening, a stew simmered on the stove while another cooked in a borrowed Instant Pot. I froze most of the stew in silicone molds, making them easy to stack and organize in the freezer. Other than using the rice cooker occasionally, I didn’t have to cook for the rest of the month.
Split pea soup with a twist: I went rogue on this classic recipe, adding corn, carrots, onions, and whatever else I had on hand.
A simmering success: One of my many lentil-based stews prepped during my no-spend month.
When initiating this part of the challenge, I braced myself for mediocrity but was pleasantly surprised – it was actually pretty good, definitely better than the overpriced fast-casual fare I’d been indulging in.
Retail therapy isn’t my main vice, but the lure of a “summer refresh” for my wardrobe was hard to resist. To get my dopamine hit, I turned to closet cleaning instead. Sorting through my belongings, I designated dozens of abandoned outfits, non-essential toiletries, and home decor for donation. Surprisingly, letting go of these items I once swore I’d cherish bolstered my resolve to stay far, far away from Target until my finances were back on track. I did have one slip-up, snagging a pair of Levi’s at Goodwill for $5.00, but in my book, the overall spirit of “no-spend” remained intact.
Although I’m proud of my culinary resourcefulness and restraint from retail therapy, I initially thought the biggest victory of my no-spend month would be the financial savings from abstaining from habitual restaurant and convenience store purchases around Cambridge. During the spring semester, I’d become accustomed to ordering an oat milk latte at Dunkin Donuts each day before heading into my office. I rationalized it as a well-deserved treat before plunging into a long, arduous day of work. But that same rationale led to eating out for lunch “for convenience” and grabbing a chocolate bar from CVS on my way back to the office. My teeth and wallet felt the impact of this daily acidic, sugary deluge. With coffee around $5.00, lunches $12.00, and candy bars at $3.00, a conservative estimate of my spending would be $20.00 a day Monday through Friday. That was around $400.00 a month for minimal nutrition sustained over a three month period.
With these habits off the table due to my no-spend challenge, I couldn’t bribe myself to work around the clock anymore. By aligning my days closer to an 8-to-5 schedule, I eliminated the need for these so-called “deserved” perks. I became content with sipping black tea at 8 and packing trail mix as an afternoon snack, embracing relaxing evenings. Instead of grinding late into the night, I began leaving at 6 p.m., strolling along the Charles River, or reading FICTION (gasp) for the first time in years. The true triumph was reclaiming my time and balance, proving far more rewarding than the monetary savings.
A final caveat I made to the low-spend month was that I allowed myself to eat out on weekends with friends. My rationale was as follows: social interactions are essential for maintaining my sanity during the grind of graduate school, and the occasional meal out with friends is a small but significant investment in my mental health. Plus, trying to make my friends eat homemade lentil stew for the fourth weekend in a row would likely result in my social circle shrinking faster than my bank balance. By limiting these outings to weekends, I can still enjoy the camaraderie and laughter that come with shared meals without completely derailing my budget. It’s all about balance, and sometimes, that balance includes a well-deserved brunch or a dinner out to keep the spirit of frugality from turning into isolation.
The summer afforded me the time to take breaks, reducing the need to buy comfort or convenience food. While it’s harder to do this during the school year, I am now motivated to try out different methods of boosting productivity and enabling structured rest, such as through time blocking and the Pomodoro method. I am happy to report that after this month of austerity, my balance is slowly recovering, and while I have gradually started to relax the rules of no-spend, I’m certainly planning to carry forward these lessons and find a healthier balance between spending, saving, and living.
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